


A Tale of Two Arthurs

by kathkin



Series: Trouser Verse [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-27
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/872777/chapters/1676799"><em>The Wrong Trouser Leg of Time</em></a>. Arthur and Merlin's relationship develops in both universes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [](http://ella-bane.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://ella-bane.livejournal.com/)**ella_bane**
> 
> _This fic takes places in the following two universes:_
> 
> _1\. In which Merlin and Arthur met in 2003, and after a tumulteous beginning to their relationship, eventually got married, after which the events of **The Wrong Trouser Leg of Time** took place. In this universe, Merlin wrote his PhD thesis on Arthurian literature, with Arthur's encouragement: thus this universe is the King Arthur universe, or KA!verse for short._
> 
> _2\. In which Merlin and Arthur met in 2010, after the space time continuum had screwed around with them for a while_. _In this universe, Merlin initially decided to write his PhD thesis on Beowulf. Thus this univers_ _e is the Beowulf universe, or B!Verse._
> 
> ___Hopefully this is not too confusing._

*

**_B!verse_ **

_2010_

 

There was nothing, Arthur thought, quite like waking up to Merlin sprawled all over your sofa. He was on his stomach, one foot dangling off the edge, out from under the blanket. Arthur tucked it away again, very carefully, trying not to tickle him, then tip-toed away into the kitchen.

 

A few minutes later, he woke Merlin up with a little shake, gentle, fond. He sat up, bleary-eyed, stared around the living room as if he didn’t know where he was, then said:

 

“Ohh, right. That happened.”

 

“Yeah,” said Arthur. “I brought you some tea!” He handed Merlin the mug (he’d spent most of his time in the kitchen trying to decide which mug he’d like best, actually. He’d gone for Snoopy in the end).

 

“Thanks,” said Merlin. “What time is it?”

 

“About eight, I think,” said Arthur. “You sleep okay?”

 

“Your sofa is surprisingly comfortable,” said Merlin, sipping his tea. “And I should call my Mum, she’ll be wondering why I didn’t come home…”

 

“She probably thinks you got lucky,” said Arthur.

 

“Maybe I should just let her think that,” said Merlin. “If I tell her I met my alternate-universe husband she’ll think I’ve finally lost it.” He wiggled out from under the blanket and swung his legs out. He was wearing his boxers and one of Arthur’s old t-shirts, hanging huge on his skinny frame.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” said Arthur. “I think we should just forget about that, maybe. Try not to have this be the weirdest relationship ever.”

 

“Not really a relationship yet,” said Merlin. He took another sip of his tea, inspected the mug. “Is that Snoopy?”

 

“Yeah,” said Arthur.

 

“I love Snoopy,” said Merlin. He rubbed his eyes. “I should probably go soon, I guess.”

 

“Want to go out again tonight?” said Arthur. “We can do whatever you want. We don’t have to go out to another restaurant. We could stay in. I’d cook for you, but I suck at that, so we could just –”

 

Merlin kissed him gently. Trailed his fingers down the side of Arthur’s face. “You,” he said, “talk way too much.”  
 

“I’m just really scared I’m going to fuck this up,” said Arthur. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I swear to God.”

 

“I’ll pick you up around seven,” said Merlin.

 

Arthur frowned. “What are we going to do?”

 

“You’ll have to wait and see,” said Merlin, with a little smile.

 

 

**_KA!Verse_ **

_2003_

**__**

 

Arthur had always had a temper. It wasn’t his fault. It was the fault of the stupid _stupid_ universe and all the people in it who were so very determined to piss him off at every opportunity.

 

Like the skinny man with the ridiculous ears who was simultaneously trying to help Arthur up, wipe coffee off his shirt with a handful of napkins, and move the strap of his laptop bag out the way.

 

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he was saying. “That was –”

 

“Oh, just – get off me!” snapped Arthur, shoving him away into the table. “And just shut the fuck up, alright? Clumsy idiot.”

 

“I said I was sorry!” protested ridiculous ears. “I’ll buy you another coffee, alright?”

 

Arthur took a step forward. Ears leaned back away from him. “You can pay for my dry-cleaning,” he said. “Have you got any idea how much this suit cost?”

 

Ears gaped at him. “I said I was sorry,” he said. “Wanker.”

 

Arthur was about to answer when he remembered that he’d been on his way to work, actually, and _shit_ , was that the time? “This isn’t over,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

He thought he heard a snigger behind him as he marched out, but that would just be stupid. No-one laughed at him.

 

 

**_B_ **

**__**

 

 

Merlin’s plan for their second date seemed to involve hiking up a hill, which Arthur did not approve of, then producing a bottle of cider and a box full of brownies when they got to the top, which he approved of very much.

 

“So I spoke to my tutor and told her I was going to switch back to Arthurian lit,” said Merlin. “And she kind of freaked out a bit, cause I’ve been working on this for three and a half years, so it’s kind of insane, but she came around eventually.”

 

“That’s great,” said Arthur. “Really great. What kind of nuts are these?”

 

“Macadamia,” said Merlin. He handed Arthur the cider. “You get a great view of the sunset from up here.”

 

“Not sure I think it’s worth the climb, personally,” said Arthur. “But you are, so I’m good.” He grinned. Merlin frowned back.

 

“This,” he said, “this is all kind of insane, actually. I mean, you already know me, but I hardly know you at all.”

 

“Alright,” said Arthur. He pulled himself a little further up the hillside to perch next to Merlin. “Ask me anything.”

 

“Well, now I can’t think of anything,” said Merlin.

 

“Go on, try me,” said Arthur. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

 

“Anything?” said Merlin.

 

“Anything.”

 

“Okay,” said Merlin. He took a deep breath. “How do you feel about… whips?”

 

“Whips,” said Arthur flatly.

 

“Yes,” said Merlin. “Whips. In bed.”

 

“Oh, come on!” said Arthur. “You are so not into whips. I was married to you, remember?”

 

“Maybe not in that universe,” said Merlin. “But in this universe, I just love whipping people.” He stared at Arthur for a long moment, completely straight-faced, then turned his head away and began to laugh.

 

“I’m serious,” said Arthur, nudging him. “Come on.”

 

“Alright,” said Merlin. “What do you do when you’re not at work?”

 

Arthur frowned. “I don’t know,” he said. “I see my friends. I work out. When I was a kid I used to make model aeroplanes.”

 

“I used to have little model knights,” said Merlin. “I painted them. But I didn’t have anyone for them to fight, so they just used to sit at their round table and gossip.”

 

“My teddy bear used to fly my aeroplanes,” said Arthur. “I wish I still had them, actually. My Dad threw them out when I left home.”

 

“Did you go to university?” said Merlin. Arthur nodded. “Here?”

 

“Um,” said Arthur. “No. Cambridge, actually. I studied economics. You?”

 

“History and English Literature,” said Merlin. “I had to sell most of my books, though. And my laptop.”

 

“Don’t you have a grant or something?” said Arthur.

 

Merlin nodded. “It ran out. And my thesis kind of ground to a halt.”

 

“It’ll go better now,” said Arthur. “Trust me. It seemed to be going great. In the other universe.”

 

“I don’t suppose you knew what I was writing about?” said Merlin.

 

“Um,” said Arthur. “Ah. Something about Chrétien de Troyes. That’s all I remember.”

 

“I think I can work with that,” said Merlin. 

 

 

**_KA_ **

 

 

He ran into ridiculous ears again, walked right into him in the middle of the street on his way back from work one evening, and it wasn’t Arthur’s fault at all, of course.

 

“You!” he exclaimed.

 

“Oh, God,” moaned ridiculous ears. “Not again.”

 

“Will you just look where you’re fucking going?” snapped Arthur. “You stupid – ” He raised his hands, balled them into fists.

 

Ears flinched, suddenly looking properly terrified. “Oh God,” he said. “Please don’t hit me. I’m sorry. I’m really tired and I just want to get home and make myself some hot chocolate, alright?”

 

“Fine,” said Arthur, lowering his hands. “You’re not worth it anyway.”

 

“I’m glad you could educate me on my worth,” said ears, deadpan. He pushed past Arthur and stalked away.

 

And had Arthur taken a few seconds longer, he probably would have vanished away into the distance and the crowd, and that would be the end of it. But as it was, he turned around just in time.

 

“Wait!” he said. “Wait. You’re right. I’m sorry, I was being rude.”

 

Ears blinked at him, dumbfounded. “Um,” he said. “Yeah. Just a bit.”

 

“I can buy you a drink or something,” said Arthur. “If you like. Or a hot chocolate.”

 

He honestly expected ears to say no – he did look tired, after all – and he’d only wanted to make himself look a little better. But ears smiled, walked back a few paces, and took a hold of his wrist. “Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. I know a place that does the best hot chocolate.”

 

So there was hot chocolate – and it was delicious, it really was – and then there was a bar, and there was sharing of woes, and there were far too many shots, and the walk home seemed so very long. They ended up collapsed against a lamp post, Merlin – because that was his name, not Ridiculous Ears at all – giggling like a little girl.

 

His ears weren’t actually that ridiculous at all, now that Arthur thought about it. They had a sort of glow in the light from the lamp post, translucent. He rubbed his thumb down the edge of one thoughtfully. Merlin shivered.

 

“I think we should be friends,” Merlin announced. “It’ll be fun. We can meet up and complain at each other. Even if you are a giant wanker.”

 

“If I’m a giant wanker it’s only cause I have a giant –” Arthur broke off, gestured, then broke down laughing. Merlin clung to his shoulders, panted against his neck.

 

“You’re really gorgeous,” he said.

 

“I know,” said Arthur. Merlin drew back a little stared at him, smiling slightly, and his lips just looked so soft, Arthur could help but kiss him, it wasn’t his fault, not really.

 

For a moment or two it was nice, soft and shivery, Merlin’s hand running up and down his back, but then it hit him, what he was doing, he was fucking _kissing another man_ , and he was flooded with sudden burning disgust. He pushed Merlin away, vicious.

“Get,” he gasped out. “Get off me. Get the _fuck_ off me.”

 

Merlin looked bewildered. “You kissed _me_ ,” he said. “At least I think you did.”

 

“No,” said Arthur. “No. I’m straight. I like women, alright? So you can just get your filthy gay hands _off_ me!” He pushed Merlin away again, even though he was already away. Arthur wanted him further away. He didn’t want to see him again, not ever.

 

“I’m bisexual, actually,” said Merlin, trembling.

 

Arthur took hold of his faded t-shirt and shoved him again, harder this time, sent him sprawling backwards onto the pavement. “Don’t touch me,” he said. “Don’t come near me, yeah?”

 

He turned and marched away, head reeling with fury. He thought Merlin might have called after him, but he wasn’t sure.

 

**_B_ **

 

 

Merlin didn’t like restaurants. He liked his dates to be a little less conventional. He took Arthur to tiny little cafes with weird pictures on the walls and all-natural organic food on the menus, weird films in subtitled French, bars with old newspaper instead of wallpaper. He never protested when Arthur paid for everything, but he wanted to. Arthur could see it in his eyes.

 

“I have the money, you know,” he said one evening while they were walking home.

 

“You don’t have to worry.”

 

“I don’t like sponging off other people is all,” said Merlin. “Besides, it’s not like I’m the woman.”

 

“Oh, you totally are,” said Arthur.

 

“You have a girlier face,” Merlin retorted. He took Arthur’s hand. “I’m okay, alright? It’s nice. Everything’s nice.”

 

They slowed to a gentle stop at a street corner. “Want me to walk you home?” said Arthur.

 

“I think I can manage,” said Merlin. “It’s only just down the street.”

 

“Very well,” said Arthur. He brought Merlin’s hand to his mouth and kissed it softly.

 

“As my lady commands.”

 

Merlin laughed.

 

 

 

**_KA_ **

**__**

 

 

Arthur had hoped that would be the end of it, that he would never have to see Merlin again, that the little curl of shame in his stomach would just wither away to nothing and he could go back to normal, but then he saw him again, on the same street, even. It was November, getting to be cold, and Merlin had a little woolly hat pulled down over his ears.

 

At first, he completely ignored Arthur, even when he called out a greeting, so Arthur followed him, ran up behind him and grabbed his elbow.

 

Merlin tugged it away and glared at Arthur, hot and furious. The curl of shame began to unwind.

 

“Look,” said Arthur. “I’m sorry, alright? I am so sorry. I was drunk, and I was freaked out, and I’m not normally like that, and I’m _sorry_.”

 

“I’m not sure sorry quite cuts it, Arthur,” said Merlin. “You fucking homophobic _cunt_.”

 

“I’m not,” said Arthur, heart sinking. “I swear I’m not. I’ll prove it to you, alright? I’ll do anything you want. I just don’t want you thinking of me that way.”

 

“I don’t want anything from you,” said Merlin.

 

“I like you,” said Arthur. “I don’t know what it is, but I really don’t want you to think I’m like that, because I’m not like that. I don’t want to be like that. I swear to God.”

 

Merlin turned his face away.

 

“Can we just start again,” said Arthur. “Please?”

 

 

**_B_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

They had been dating for a month or so when it took a turn for the better.

 

They were in Arthur’s flat, curled up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn and a stack of DVDs. Merlin had insisted they watch _The Sword in the Stone_ , said it counted as research. He’d started out at the other end of the sofa, but it hadn’t taken him long to drift over, to snuggle up next to Arthur, head on his lap.

 

“My thesis is going great now,” he said. “I swear I’ve got more done in the last month than I have all year. It’s like you’re my muse.”

 

“I’m just awesome like that,” said Arthur.

 

Merlin sighed, squirmed a little. “I watched this film so many times when I was a kid,” he said. “I liked it cause it had Merlin in it. I used to try to grow a beard.”

 

Arthur laughed. “I used to hate it because they made King Arthur into such a little wimp.”

 

On the screen, little wimpy Arthur was wearing a crown that was far too big for him.

 

Merlin shifted a little more, then sat up, disentangling himself, and said: “I have something I want to say.”

 

“Go on, then,” said Arthur.

 

Merlin took a handful of popcorn, as if to fortify himself. “I think we should shag.”

 

“I – what?” said Arthur.

 

“I think we should shag,” said Merlin. “Tonight would be great, but any time soon, really. I think our relationship would go in a good direction if we were to shag.”

Arthur stared at him.

 

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin. “I’m not good at talking about sex, so I though I’d just be direct – hey!”

 

Arthur had launched himself across the sofa, tackling Merlin around the waist, and for a moment it seemed to go swimmingly well, until,

 

“Jesus, Arthur! The popcorn! The popcorn! Oh no…”

 

The bowl clattered off the sofa onto the wooden floor, popcorn flying out in all directions, a great soft shower. Merlin lay back against the cushions and laughed.

 

“Oh, God,” he said. “Oh, you complete…”

 

“I’m going to be picking popcorn out of my rugs for weeks,” said Arthur, wondering.

 

“It’s in my hair,” Merlin choked out. Then he was off again, eyes falling closed.

 

Arthur waited till he got his breath back, then kissed the tip of his nose. “In case you hadn’t realised, I fully agree,” he said. “I think we should probably take this to the bedroom, though. It’s more comfortable. Also less popcorny.”

 

“I don’t know,” said Merlin. “I do like popcorn.” His trailed his fingers through Arthur’s hair, smiling to himself.

 

**_KA_ **

**__**

 

 

For a few weeks, everything seemed to go fine. But then they had a few drinks too many, got thrown out of a pub, and ended up back in Arthur’s flat.

 

Merlin’s skin was very soft. His ears were lovely to suck on. He made the most delightful little moans. They were in bed before Arthur had time to think about what he was doing.

 

He managed to think _what the fuck, what the fuck_ , and _this is bad, this is very bad_ , but then Merlin did the most wonderful thing with his tongue and his head was spinning and it was so good, too good, he didn’t know how much he could take.

 

When he woke up the next morning, he crawled into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet, gasping for air, eyes stinging, throat burning, and he knew, he knew he couldn’t stand it any more.

 

He woke up Merlin, shaking him roughly, tugged the covers off him, left him shivering in the sudden cold. “What?” he said, voice thick with sleep.

 

“Get out,” said Arthur.

 

“M’sorry?” said Merlin, blinking up at him.

 

“Get dressed,” said Arthur slowly. “And get out of my flat. Now.”

 

Merlin still didn’t move. He looked exhausted. Lazy little sod, Arthur said to himself. Then Merlin’s eyes widened. “Oh God,” he said. “Did we –”

 

Arthur collected his clothes from the floor, threw them at him in a bundle. “Get. Out.”

 

“Arthur,” said Merlin, scrabbling to sit up and cover himself at the same time.

 

“Arthur, I know you’re freaked out, but we can talk about this, we don’t have to –”

 

“Get the _fuck_ out of my flat,” said Arthur. “I don’t want to talk about this, alright? Not ever. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you.”

 

“You don’t mean that,” said Merlin, voice weak, shaking.

 

“Being around you,” said Arthur. “Makes my skin crawl. I’m straight, alright? I’m fucking straight, so stop hanging off me. It’s disgusting.”

 

Merlin’s mouth fell open. “Oh, you complete –”

 

“Don’t you dare,” said Arthur. “Don’t even try it. Just get out.”

 

Merlin glared at him, long and hard, then tugged his shirt over his head, dressed himself briskly.

 

The sound of the door slamming seemed to echo around the empty flat.

 

 

**_B_ **

**__**

 

 

The DVD menu was still playing in the background, incongruous. Merlin made the same noises Arthur remembered, little pants and gasps, hot and damp against his ear. He worked his way down his neck, his shoulder, lingering on the spots that made Merlin moan. His hands were sliding up and down Arthur’s back, clinging onto him.

 

“Oh, God,” he said as Arthur’s tongue slid behind his ear. “Oh God, right there.” He turned his head to the side.

 

“I love your ears,” said Arthur. He sucked gently on the lobe.

 

“What,” said Merlin. He paused, swallowed. Arthur could feel his throat working. _Oh God_. “What do you want to do?”

 

“I don’t care,” said Arthur. “Anything. Everything.” He breathed in Merlin’s scent one last time, then drew back reluctantly, unzipped his jeans. And that was awkward, because Merlin decided to help, clumsy shaking fingers interlocking with Arthur’s, and he was going to protest, he was, but then they slipped down inside and wrapped around him and for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

 

“Hang on,” he choked out. “Let me get them off.”

 

Having Merlin spread out naked beneath him was even better than he remembered, because this was _his_ Merlin, his Merlin who wanted him, who wasn’t thinking of some other Arthur, some better Arthur.They lay pressed close together, Merlin’s eyes screwed tight shut, just touching each other, a little clumsy.

 

Merlin’s fingers were long and tight around his prick, firm, stroking and toying until he groaned and his hips jerked forward. He brought his other hand down, cupped Merlin’s balls, squeezed gently, and Merlin cried out, he actually _cried out_ , and said, “Oh God, oh _fuck_ , I can’t, I –”

 

He was still and silent beneath Arthur for a heart beat, then his head fell back and he choked out _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur_ as he came, hot and wet, fingers tightening around Arthur’s prick, _so good so good so good_ , and the sight of Merlin, Arthur’s name on his lips, was more than he could take.

 

“I take it all back,” Merlin said after, with Arthur sprawled on top of him, face pressed against his neck. “We are amazing. That was – fuck, that was bloody _phenomenal_.”

 

“You just wait till we have a chance to practice,” said Arthur.

 

Merlin moaned, then pushed at Arthur gently. “Give me some space, yeah?” Arthur rolled away, lay on his side and watched Merlin breathe.

 

“Just so you know,” Merlin said. “We are doing that again later. As soon as I think I can move, we’re doing that again.”

 

“God, yes,” Arthur moaned into the pillow.

 

 

 

**_KA_ **

**__**

 

 

He lasted five days. Five days before he was outside Merlin’s flat, banging on the door, demanding to be let in.

 

“I’m sorry, alright?” he shouted. “I didn’t mean it, I was just scared. I’m scared, Merlin. And I’m so _fucking_ sorry, I really am. Now let me in so we can talk about it, yeah? I changed my mind, I want to talk.” Silence. He banged on the door again, frantic now. “I know you’re in there, Merlin, I can hear you moving about. I have to see you, I miss you so much. I can’t stop thinking about what happened. I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I miss you, and please, _please_ let me in.” There was a sound, like a footstep, maybe, then more silence. “For the love of God, Merlin, open the fucking door!”

 

One of Merlin’s neighbours, an elderly woman walking a tiny little dog, chose that moment to come up the stairs, gasped and gave him a shocked look. “You got a problem?” said Arthur. “Do you?” She whimpered and hurried away, almost tripping over the lead.

 

“I’m ready to talk now, Merlin,” he said. “I’ve been a complete twat about this. Just give me another chance. One more chance. Please?” He pressed against the door and listened with all his might, but there was nothing. “Fine. Be like that.” He took a few deep breaths. Told himself to walk away. Then he banged on the door again. “Come _on_ , Merlin! I’m sorry! I’ll do anything you want, okay? _Anything_. Just talk to me. Please?”

 

The silence seemed to stretch on and on. He couldn’t breathe. Somewhere on the other side of the door, the floor creaked. That was all. He took a few deep breaths, gulped down air, then said, “Okay. I’m going, alright? You know where to find me, yeah?”

 

He got maybe half a dozen steps down the hallway before there was a _click_ and a little jingle of chain behind him. He stopped, hardly daring to turn around.

 

Merlin was wearing his pyjama trousers and an ancient-looking t-shirt, bags under his eyes, his hair even more of a mess than usual. He stared at Arthur for a long, sad moment, then nodded his head, beckoned him inside.

 

Once the door closed behind them, Arthur started to speak, started to apologise again, but Merlin held up his hand. He was trembling. “No,” he said. “Okay? This is it. I’m not going to let you fuck with me any more.”

 

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I swear.”

 

“Anything?” said Merlin. Arthur nodded. “Okay. Go out with me.”

 

“What?” said Arthur.

 

“Go out with me,” said Merlin. “On a date. In public.” Arthur gaped at him. Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t think so,” he said, reaching for the latch on the door.

 

“No,” said Arthur, catching him by the wrist. “No, Merlin – I just want to be with you, alright? I think. I don’t know. I don’t know what I am any more. I’m kind of scared. But, look,” he took Merlin’s hands, entwined their fingers. “You have my solemn oath that if I ever, _ever_ fuck with you again, you can beat my face in with a shovel. I won’t fight back, I promise. I’ll just take it.”

 

Merlin turned his face away to laugh.

 

“I don’t know about you, but what I actually remember of the other night was kind of amazing,” said Arthur. “I fucked it all up. I’m so sorry. But you won’t regret it this time, alright? I promise you won’t regret it if you give me another chance.”

 

Merlin stared at him. He stared back.

 

“One more chance,” he said eventually. “Okay? Just one.”

 

Relief flooded through Arthur, like a wave. His knees felt weak. “Thank you,” he said. “You won’t regret it.” He reached out, wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and held him until Merlin’s arms slipped around his waist and squeezed back.

 

**_B_ **

**__**

 

 

Arthur woke up the next morning with the sun on his face and Merlin curled up next to himin his boxers and one of Arthur’s t-shirts, makeshift pyjamas. He rolled over, looped an arm around Merlin’s thin waist, and just dozed like that for an hour or so.

 

It was Saturday. He could stay like that all day if he wanted to (and there was a tempting thought, it’d been a long week at work and all).

 

He was woken up again by Merlin’s breath tickling his eyelids.

 

“Morning,” said Merlin.

 

“Mmm,” said Arthur. “Hi. You sleep okay?”

 

“Your bed is – very comfortable,” said Merlin, kissing him gently. “And last night was pretty tiring.”

 

“Last night was fantastic,” said Arthur, running a hand up and down Merlin’s shoulder, tracing the sharp angles of it. Merlin moaned.

 

Then they had sex again. Because it was Saturday, and because they could. It was going on lunchtime by the time Merlin shook him awake.

 

“You’re dressed,” he said, blinking.

 

“Yeah,” said Merlin. “You had practically nothing in your kitchen except baked beans and bread and ready meals, so I went out. I’m making French toast, you want some?”

 

“Give me a minute,” said Arthur. “I’ll be up soon.” Merlin nodded, headed for the door. “Wait,” he said.

 

“Hmm?” said Merlin, one hand resting on the doorframe.

 

Arthur rubbed his eyes and braced himself. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Depends what it is,” said Merlin.

 

“Move in with me,” said Arthur quickly.

 

Merlin stared at him, shifted about awkwardly. “You know, that wasn’t really a question,” he said.

 

“Yeah, I know,” said Arthur. “And I know it sounds kind of stupid, because we’ve only been together a month or so, but it’d work, y’know? I mean I’m closer to the university, and you’re, well, living with your mum.”

 

“Um,” said Merlin. “I’d have to get back to you, I guess. I mean I can’t just –”

 

“I know,” said Arthur. “Just think about it, yeah?”

 

 

**_KA_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

Their first date was in a pizzeria. Merlin reached the corner outside Arthur’s flat twenty minutes late, looking pale and breathless and panic-stricken, his rucksack still hanging from one shoulder.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I had a really hectic day.”

 

“It’s okay,” said Arthur. “I wasn’t worried you weren’t coming or anything.” There was an awkward sort of pause.

 

“Well, I’m here now,” said Merlin. He smiled. “So, where are we going?”

 

“Just follow me,” said Arthur, beckoning. “You’ll love it. I promise.”

 

But Merlin was strangely quiet once they reached the restaurant. He studied the menu with a little frown on his face, monosyllabic when Arthur asked him questions. By the time the waiter had come twice, and Merlin had kept asking for more time, it was starting to get kind of annoying. And more than a little nerve-wracking.

 

“Is something wrong?” said Arthur. He wanted to order. He needed a drink.

 

“No,” said Merlin. “It all looks great. I’m sure it’s great.”

 

“Then what’s the problem?” said Arthur.

 

Merlin bit his lip. “It’s just,” he said, “I can’t really have pizza.”

 

“What?” said Arthur.

 

“Well, I’m allergic to tomatoes,” said Merlin. “I don’t know if they do a tomato-free pizza, there’s nothing on the menu, but we could ask, I guess.”

 

Arthur took his head in his hands. “And you didn’t think to say anything earlier? Like, before we went into the restaurant?”

 

“Well, you looked so nervous about it,” said Merlin. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

 

“I’m not nervous,” said Arthur. “I don’t get nervous.”

 

“Everyone gets nervous,” said Merlin. “S’okay.” He flicked through the menu again. “I could just get garlic bread I guess. That should be alright.”

 

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur, taking his hands away from his face. “I fucked up again.”

 

Merlin put his menu down and took Arthur’s hand. “No, it’s okay,” he said. “You didn’t know. You’re trying, at least, yeah?” He smiled.

 

Arthur leaned forward, lowered his voice. “Does that mean if I eat tomato you won’t be able to kiss me later?”

 

“Yeah,” said Merlin, with a little shrug. “Sorry.”

 

Arthur closed his menu. “To hell with this. Let’s go find somewhere else, yeah?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [_The Wrong Trouser Leg of Time_](http://community.livejournal.com/merlinfic/714179.html). Arthur and Merlin's relationship develops in both universes.

**_B_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

Merlin’s mother lived in a tiny little terraced house, forests of potted plants decorating the windowsill, little hand-made hangings and decorations all over the walls. It smelled of tea and flowers and soap. It made Arthur wish he’d grown up there as well.

 

The sofa was big and saggy, covered in a soft blanket. She sat him down, gave him a cup of tea and a plate of home made biscuits, then dragged Merlin away through the bead curtain into the kitchen to help out.

 

Their voices carried down the hall. Arthur edged his way down the sofa to listen.

 

“You didn’t tell me he was so handsome,” she was saying. He smiled.

 

“Mum, shush!” said Merlin. “I think he can hear you.”

 

“So?” she said. “He won’t mind. Turn the oven on, will you?” Then, a moment later, “Thanks, love.”

 

He could hear Merlin’s feet squeaking on the linoleum as he shifted about awkwardly.

 

“Mum, I need to talk to you about something,” he said. “I. Um.”

 

Arthur got up, tea cup in one hand and biscuit in the other, and wandered through to the kitchen. The woven mats in the hallway were rough beneath his feet.

 

“Hi,” he said. “I got bored. Sorry.”

 

“It’s no problem,” said Hunith, handing him a fresh saucer. “Do you like the biscuits? It’s a new recipe.”

 

“They’re delicious,” said Arthur. “I see where Merlin gets it from.”

 

Merlin turned his head away, bashful, smiling. It made Arthur want to go and put his arms around him. He wished he wasn’t holding a cup of tea.

 

“What were you saying, Merlin?” said Hunith, fetching a jar out of the cupboard.

 

“I, um,” said Merlin, his eyes flicking from Arthur to his mother and back again. Then he took a deep breath. “Mum. Arthur’s asked me to move in with him.”

 

“That’s wonderful, love,” she said as she unscrewed the jar. “How soon?”

 

There was a pause. “You’re not bothered, then?” said Merlin. Arthur ate another bite of his biscuit.

 

“Why would I be bothered?” she asked.

 

“Well, I thought you might think it was too soon, because we’ve only been going out for a month or so,” said Merlin, “and also, I thought you might miss me. Maybe. I mean I’ve been living here for a while now…”

 

Hunith put the jar down on the worktop. “Merlin,” she said. “You told me you were going to be moving back in for a month, tops. That was two years ago.” Merlin ducked his head. “I’m not saying it hasn’t been nice having you back, but you’re a grown man now. You need to get on with things. Besides, I have a good feeling about you two.”

 

Arthur finished off his biscuit. “Really?” said Merlin.

 

“I’ve seen the way you look at each other,” she said. She turned to Arthur. “If you’re going to be in here, you might as well help us make dinner.”

 

“Oh,” said Arthur. “No. Sorry, I’ve never really cooked before, I’ll just ruin everything.”

 

She took a hold of his wrists and guided him over to the sink.

 

“I mean it,” he said. “I can’t do anything more complicated than pasta with baked beans.”

 

“That sounds disgusting,” she said.

 

“It is,” said Merlin grimly. “Trust me.”

 

“It’s only pasta bake, Arthur,” said Hunith. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

 

Dinner was delicious, and knowing he’d helped make it was surprisingly satisfying.

 

**_KA_ **

 

 

Their third date was in a cocktail bar that Arthur had been to a few times with people from work. He realised once they arrived that he might not have quite thought it through. Merlin was tense, nervous, as if he felt out of place.

 

Arthur slipped an arm around his shoulders as they stood waiting at the bar.

“I’m fine,” said Merlin, with a little sigh, but he didn’t shrug Arthur off. “I just don’t know what’s in half of these and it doesn’t say.”

 

Arthur was about to answer when someone said his name, just behind them, tinged with surprise and maybe even shock. He turned around, resisting the sudden urge to let go of Merlin at once.

 

“Leon,” he said, relieved. Leon was more laid-back than most of the men he worked with. “Hi. How’s it going?”

 

“Good,” said Leon. He folded his arms, awkward, and nodded at Merlin. “So who’s this, then?”

 

Arthur’s mouth dried up. This had to happen before he’d had a drink, didn’t it? He could feel Merlin’s expectant anxious gaze on him. “This is Merlin,” he said after a moment or two. “He’s my boyfriend. Merlin, this is Leon.”

 

Merlin smiled and disentangled his arm from Arthur to shake hands. “Hi.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” said Leon. “I didn’t know Arthur was seeing someone.”

 

“It’s kind of a recent development,” said Arthur.

 

“Oh,” said Leon. “Well, I’ve got to run, just got a phone call. You’ll have to introduce us properly later, alright?”

 

Once he was gone, Arthur frowned. “Huh.”

 

 

“What’s up?” said Merlin. He had relaxed, Arthur realised. The tension had seeped out of him. Arthur squeezed his shoulder and smiled.

 

“That went a lot better than I expected,” he said.

 

“Yeah,” said Merlin. He twisted around, back towards the bar, and opened the menu again. “I was kind of expecting you to say we were just mates or something.”

 

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Arthur. “I care what you think of me more than I care what he thinks of me.”

 

Merlin turned to face him, eyebrows raised, a smile pulling at his lips, and Arthur couldn’t help but kiss him, in the middle of a cocktail bar, where anyone could see. It felt even better than he’d expected.

 

Of course, even though Leon wasn’t the type to gossip, he must have mentioned it to someone, because by the next morning Arthur had emails from half his office, Lance, Morgana, and, most terrifying of all, his father, all variations on a theme.

 

Oh, well. He could deal with it. But first he was going to call Merlin.

 

**__**

 

**_B_ **

 

 

They spent the night in Merlin’s room. He only had a single bed, so Hunith had helpfully provided a mattress on the floor.

 

“D’you think this is her way of saying we shouldn’t have sex in her house?” said Arthur, perching on the squashy edge of it.

 

Merlin blushed. “Well, I wouldn’t anyway,” he said. “There’s really not enough space in a single, though.”

 

“I’m sure we could manage,” said Arthur. He tugged off his socks. “Your Mum’s great, by the way.”

 

“I know,” said Merlin with a fond smile.

 

Arthur lasted about half an hour, once they turned the lights out, before he crawled over and joined Merlin in his bed. It was a snug fit, the two of them all tangled up, intimate. Merlin muttered and complained, but from the way he sighed and snuggled closer, Arthur could tell he didn’t really mind.

 

 

**_KA_ **

 

Merlin was waiting for him when he got home, seized him the moment he was in the door and pressed him against the wall, a predatory lustful glint in his eye. Arthur’s briefcase fell from his fingers, unnoticed.

 

Merlin knelt, fell to his knees on the floor, and began to work Arthur’s trousers open, fingers brushing his crotch, and by the time he reached inside Arthur was already half-hard.

 

“You like that?” he said, fingers wrapping around the head of Arthur’s prick, teasing his foreskin, and he was all the way hard, now. All he could manage was a moan. “Oh yeah, you like that.”

 

He leaned forward, took just the very tip into his mouth and sucked gently, teasing, toying with him. It was all Arthur could do not to come right there and then.

 

“More,” he choked out, desperate. “Please.” His head fell back against the wall with a thump. “ _Fuck_.”

 

Merlin obliged for once, wrapped his hand around the base and sucked him in smoothly, as much as he could take, then moaned around him, as if he was getting off on this too.

 

“Oh God,” said Arthur. “Do that thing. With your tongue. Yeah, _that_.” He groaned, thrust forward into Merlin’s mouth. He was going to come soon, embarrassingly quick, and he didn’t care, he really didn’t care. He wanted to tell Merlin all sorts of things, wonderful things, praise him outrageously, but instead he bit his tongue, hard, and thrust again.

 

Merlin moaned, moved back and forth, somehow taking Arthur even deeper, then drew back altogether, leaving him hot and wet, blinked up at him. “You like?” he said.

 

“You fucking tease,” Arthur moaned. “Get on with it.”

 

Merlin smiled, leaned forward and bloody _licked_ him, traced the veins, from root to tip, toyed with the slit, sucking up drops of pre-come. Arthur opened his mouth to order him, beg him, _anything_ ¸ but the words wouldn’t come, so he just thrust forward again, forced himself between Merlin’s lips. Merlin sucked him, hard and eager, not teasing now, until his toes curled and his knees went limp and his eyes fluttered closed and _oh bloody fucking hell_.

 

He slid down the wall, softening cock hanging out of his trousers. Merlin suddenly seemed to loom over him, wiping at his mouth, grinning.

 

“Happy anniversary,” he said. “Dinner’s in the kitchen. I made chocolate carrot cake.”

 

“I love you,” said Arthur. Then, “Are you going to do this every year? Please say you’re going to do this every year.”

 

Merlin’s grin broadened. “You’ll just have to wait and see, I guess,” he said.

 

 

**__ **

**__**

 

**_B_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

They had Morgana round for dinner as soon as they were both moved in, Merlin’s stuff filling Arthur’s kitchen cupboards better than his own ever would have done. She arrived at the door, all high-heels and skirt-suit, straight from work, clutching a bottle of wine.

 

“So, who was it you wanted me to meet, then?” she said once she was in the door.

 

“Oh, right,” said Arthur. He guided her towards the kitchen. “Morgana, Merlin. Merlin, this is my sister Morgana.”

 

Merlin dried his hands off on a dish towel, smiled. “Hi,” he said. “It’s really great to meet you.”

 

Morgana gaped. “Oh,” she said. Arthur tried to hide his smile. He had never seen her speechless before. “Oh, wow. I’m sorry, it’s just I kind of thought you were an imaginary friend. Or something.”

 

Merlin laughed. “No, I exist,” he said. “Or at least I think I do.”

 

“Well, now we’re just getting existential,” she said.

 

“So, as you can see,” Arthur said, patting her on the shoulder. “Some people really are called Merlin.”

 

The timer on the oven dinged. Merlin dived for it, muttering something about chocolate pudding. Morgana smiled.

 

An hour later, midway through the meal, when Merlin had vanished back into the kitchen to get the pudding, Morgana pounced.

 

“Arthur, where did you find him?” she hissed. “He’s perfect. He’s adorable. I want one in my flat too.”

 

Arthur sat back in his chair, smug. “Well, he’s mine, and you can’t have him.”

 

“I’m serious,” said Morgana. “Why didn’t you introduce us before? I never in a million years thought you’d actually date anyone worthwhile. Or likeable.”

“Hey!” said Arthur. Then he stopped protesting, because it was true, he really did attract nothing but nutters and bimbos.

 

“And he cooks as well,” said Morgana. “You’re going to have to marry him, you realise.”

 

Arthur leaned forward again, lowered his voice. “I’ll get back to you on that, okay?”

 

Merlin re-appeared, hands nestled in his oven gloves. “I’ll be a few more minutes, okay?” he said. “It might have got a very tiny bit burned. But only a tiny bit!” Then he was off again, dashing back down the hall.

 

Morgana stared at her wineglass, pensive. “What?” said Arthur, suddenly anxious. He didn’t like it when Morgana got that look on her face.

 

“I don’t suppose he has a brother, does he?” she said.

 

Before he could answer, Merlin dashed back in with the pudding and a jug of chocolate sauce balanced on a tray. “It’s fine now,” he said. “I fixed it.” He beamed down at them. They both smiled back. “What were you talking about?”

 

“Oh,” said Morgana breezily. “You.”

 

Merlin frowned. Arthur and Morgana laughed.

 

(The chocolate pudding was as fantastic as always.)

 

 

**_KA_ **

**__**

 

 

Arthur was glowing with pride when he knocked on the door of Merlin’s flat. Not even the amount of time Merlin took to answer could take the shine off his good mood.

 

“Ah, there you are,” he said. “Put your shoes on. I have a surprise for you.”

 

“Um,” said Merlin. “I’m. In my pyjamas.”

 

“I can see that, Merlin,” said Arthur. “And I don’t care. Hurry up, will you?”

 

“It can’t wait ten minutes?” said Merlin, frowning sleepily.

 

“No,” said Arthur, thrusting the nearest pair of shoes at him. “Get moving.”

 

Five minutes later, Merlin was stumbling down the steps onto the pavement, blinking at Arthur’s car. “What’s the surprise?” he said.

 

“I can’t tell you that,” said Arthur. “Or it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it? Get in the car.”

 

“I don’t much like surprises,” said Merlin, rubbing his eyes. He stood shivering on the curb. “What kind of surprise?”

 

“A big surprise,” said Arthur. He reached around and opened the passenger side door.

“Come on.”

 

“That’s the worst kind,” said Merlin, grumpy, but he got in the car, settled himself back against the leather seat, fastened his seatbelt. “How far away is it?”

 

“Just a few minutes,” said Arthur, then when Merlin still looked uncertain, “Trust me. You’ll love it, alright?”

 

“If you say so,” said Merlin.

 

He kept frowning for the whole drive, as they turned the last corner into a broad street and pulled up outside a block of flats. It was an old building, dark stone, the front door set back into a porch.

 

“This is it,” said Arthur, ushering Merlin out of the car.

 

“Arthur, what –” Merlin fell silent as Arthur produced the key for the front door.

 

“Fourth floor,” he said. “Right at the top. We’re taking the lift. Come on.” He guided Merlin inside, one hand pressed to his back.

 

Merlin stood awkwardly in the lift, tugging at his pyjama top. It was an old t-shirt, somehow stretched and slightly too small at the same time. “I feel silly,” he said.

 

“Why?” asked Arthur.

 

“I’m in a lift in a strange building,” said Merlin, “and I’m in my pyjamas. Arthur, what are we doing here?”

 

“You’ll see,” said Arthur, just as the doors began to open. “Come on. Number eight. It’s just down here.”

 

He handed Merlin the key, still on the little plastic tag from the estate agent. Merlin stared, dumbfounded, tracing the figure eight on the door with his eyes. “What is this?” he said.

 

“Open the door,” said Arthur. “You’ll love it. Trust me.”

 

Merlin bit his lip and fitted the key into the lock.

 

Inside, it was bright and airy, with interesting slants and angles to the ceilings. Merlin turned a slow circle in the middle of the empty living room, eyes lighting up.

 

“What do you think?” said Arthur, lounging against the doorframe.

 

“It’s great,” said Merlin. “I mean – it’s _huge_. Arthur, what –”

 

“You wait till you see the kitchen,” said Arthur. He darted forward and took Merlin by the shoulder. “Come on. I’ll show you.” He led him gently down the hall, off the carpet, onto the smooth shiny tiles.

 

“You like it?” he said, snaking an arm around Merlin’s waist.

 

“Yes,” said Merlin. “Yeah, you were right. I love it. I just, I don’t –”

 

“You want to live here?” said Arthur. He held his breath.

 

Merlin was still and silent in his arms. “Um,” he said eventually. “I’ve only been awake for about fifteen minutes and I’m still in my pyjamas and I was working in the library till one last night, and I’m still kind of asleep, so you’re going to have to be really to the point, yeah?”

 

Arthur sighed and twisted Merlin around. “I want us to live here,” he said. “Together.

How does that sound?”

 

“Arthur, we can’t afford this,” said Merlin.

 

“No, _you_ can’t afford this,” said Arthur. “I can.” He smiled. Merlin frowned.

 

“I’m not, sure,” he said. “I mean, I love it, and it’s closer to the university and all, and, and, it’s lovely, but I don’t want you to… well, I can’t just…”

 

“Yes, you can,” said Arthur, taking him by the shoulders. “And you’re going to have to _get_ sure, I’m afraid. See, I already bought it for you.”

 

Merlin’s eyes widened. “What.”

 

“I bought it,” said Arthur. “Yesterday. I took the day off work and came here instead.”

 

“And you didn’t think you might want to ask me first,” said Merlin.

 

Arthur shrugged. “I know what you like,” he said. “And I know what I want. Come on. Say yes. You know you want to.” Merlin turned away, gazed out the window. “Merlin, you should see the size of the bedroom. We could get a king-sized bed in there. Imagine what we could do with a king-sized bed!” Merlin still didn’t answer. “Don’t say yes because you feel you have to, though. I mean, if you don’t think we’re ready, I won’t mind –”

 

“No,” said Merlin, shaking his head. “No, you’re right. This is – this is what I want too. But you have to let me pay you back, alright?”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” said Arthur.

 

“No,” said Merlin. “No, I want to.” His arms slipped around Arthur’s neck. “Love you.”

 

“I love you too,” said Arthur, hugging him back. “Now, let’s go get breakfast, yeah?”

 

“I’m paying,” said Merlin, voice sleepy, muffled by Arthur’s shoulder.

 

 

**_B_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

The last time Arthur had seen his father face-to-face, they’d been in another universe, and it hadn’t been his father, not really, and this was probably going to be the most nerve-wracking thing he’d ever done.

 

He’d told himself over and over that it would be fine, it had been fine in the other universe, but that didn’t help as much as he hoped it would. By the time he was standing outside the office door, he was practically shaking.

 

He took a few deep breaths. Knocked on the door. The silence seemed to go on far too long (long enough that he began to wonder if his father just wasn’t there, which was a relief and a disappointment all at once).

 

“Come in,” said his father at last. He took another deep breath and opened the door.

Inside, it smelled sharp and clean and papery. The carpet was so soft he could feel it through his shoes. His father was behind his desk. He did not look up.

 

“Arthur,” he said crisply. “Sit down.”

 

“Um, no,” said Arthur. “I, uh, I think I’d rather do this standing up, actually.”

That did it. His father turned to face him, one eyebrow raised, quizzical. “Is something wrong?” he said.

 

“No,” said Arthur. “Not _wrong_ , exactly. I just wanted to talk to you about something and I thought it would be better to do it face to face.”

 

“I see,” said his father, eyes flicking back down to his papers, clearly thinking that this was a waste of time. But he motioned for Arthur to go on.

 

“I just,” said Arthur, “I’ve been seeing someone.”

 

“That’s excellent,” said his father. “Really. I was starting to worry. Is she anyone I

know?”

 

“No,” said Arthur. “No, you don’t know him.” Uther’s eyebrows shot up. “His name’s Merlin.”

 

“I see,” said his father, tone unreadable. “And what does he do?”

 

“I’m sorry?” said Arthur.

 

“His job,” said Uther.

 

“Oh,” said Arthur. “Well, he doesn’t really have a job.”

 

“So he’s unemployed, then?” said his father. _After your money_.

 

“No,” said Arthur. “No, it’s not like that. He’s a student.”

 

Uther’s eyebrows climbed even higher. “I see.”

 

“No, it’s – he’s working on his PhD, alright? He’s my age.”

 

“What’s he studying?” said his father.

 

“Ah, medieval poetry,” said Arthur. “Arthurian literature.”

 

“Hmm,” said Uther. “I see.”

 

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, took another breath. “We’re living together. I’d really like to introduce you.”

 

“Of course,” said his father. “I shall join you this evening, then.”

 

Arthur gaped at him. “This evening?” he choked out. “I mean – today?” His father nodded. “Are you serious?”

 

“Well, I shall need to judge him for myself as soon as possible,” said his father. “To see if he’s suitable.”

 

“Okay,” said Arthur, trying to slow his pulse by sheer force of will. “Okay. And you don’t mind? You know, that he’s a… well, a he?”

 

“Arthur,” said his father, “after the last few nightmares you’ve introduced me too, I honestly don’t think I care any more. I shall see you at seven.”

 

Once he was outside, door firmly shut behind him, Arthur pressed his forehead against the smooth cool wood and groaned.

 

 

**_KA_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

Nothing Arthur did went horribly wrong. Ever. He was the king of rightness, the lord of things going to plan.

 

“Right!” he said, leaping up onto the fountain and clapping his hands. “Lance, are the doves ready?”

 

“Ready to go and getting restless,” said Lance.

 

“Gwen, balloons?”

 

“Almost done,” she called from behind a tree. “Just one more to go.” There was a hiss of a pump.

 

“Morgana, music?” said Arthur. Morgana held up the CD player, triumphant.

 

“Excellent!” said Arthur. “Time, Will?”

 

“Three forty-two,” said Will. “Two minutes till Merlin.”

 

“Okay,” said Arthur. “Is that everything?”

 

“The rings?” said Lance, leaning on one of the cages. The doves were starting to make the most bizarre noises.

 

“Oh,” said Arthur. “Ah.” He patted his jeans frantically, looking in all the pockets, even the tiny one at the top that he never used, then on the ground around his feet.

 

“Fuck, the rings…”

 

“Hey, catch!” called Will. Arthur turned just in time to see him toss something small and red. He caught it on reflex, but almost fumbled it. The rings.

 

“Oi, watch it!” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how much these cost?” Will held up his hands, innocence plastered across his face. Arthur took a few deep breaths, and said: “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just – y’know.”

 

“Nervous?” Will suggested.

 

“I’m Arthur Pendragon,” said Arthur. “I don’t get nervous.”

 

“He’s coming!” Morgana hissed. “Arthur, he’s coming!”

 

The bottom dropped out of Arthur’s stomach. Sure, they’d rehearsed it, but nothing had quite prepared him for this, this was… “Alright,” he choked out. “Yes, I do get nervous.” He tucked the rings back away in his pocket and clapped his hands.

 

“Positions, everyone!”

 

Merlin appeared around the corner just as they all vanished, hat pulled down over his ears, rucksack on his back. He stopped and frowned when he saw Arthur, perched on the fountain.

 

“Arthur?” he said, biting his lip.

 

“Merlin,” said Arthur, “I –”

 

But before he could go on, someone shouted “Oh _fuck_ ,” behind him. He spun around to tell them to _shut up, right now, or he’d break their spindly neck_ , but before he could do more than open his mouth, he was met with a face full of angry squawking dove. He stepped back, slipping on the damp stone, then just kept going back out into the air.

 

He felt something crack as he hit the ground, heard Merlin’s frantic footsteps on the gravel, heard him say, “Oh my God, Arthur, can you hear me, Arthur?” heard Gwen say, “Oh God, there’s blood,” heard Will shouting something indistinct, then he didn’t hear anything much at all for a while.

 

An hour or so later, he was trapped in a tiny room in the hospital, and some stupid woman trying to fix his head with a needle, hot and bothered and confused.

 

“No, no,” he said. “No, you have to let me explain, Merlin –”

 

“No, you have to stay still and let the nice nurse finish your stitches, okay?” said Merlin, taking one of his hands and squeezing gently.

 

“Merlin,” said Arthur. “I mean it, I have to say this now, I’ll chicken out otherwise.”

 

“Please sit still, Mr. Pendragon,” said the nurse.

 

“You can get your needle out of my head, woman!” he barked. She scowled and continued.

 

“Merlin,” he said, grabbing at him. “Merlin. Merlin.”

 

“Me?” said Merlin, with a confused shrug.

 

“Merlin,” said Arthur. “Marry me.”

 

Merlin blinked. Then he leaned around Arthur, addressed the nurse. “He’s concussed, right?” The nurse nodded. “Thought so.” He turned back to Arthur. “Arthur, sweetheart, you’re confused, yeah? You’re concussed. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

 

“I’m not concussed!” snapped Arthur. “Well, maybe I’m a little bit concussed. But I know what I’m saying, Merlin. I’m asking you to marry me. Please say you’ll marry me.”

 

Merlin bit his lip. “Arthur, please,” he said. “We’ll talk about this when he get home, yeah?”

 

Arthur started to shake his head, then remembered the nurse. “No,” he said. “Look, I’ll go down on one knee if you like. Would that help?”

 

Merlin grabbed him by the shoulders, held him still. “No, I think that would be very bad,” he said. “Look, Arthur –”

 

“I mean, what do you think I was doing on the fountain? There was meant to be doves and balloons and music, and rings, I have rings…” He groped for the pockets of his jeans. Nothing. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck…” His mind raced. “My jacket –” He lunged for it, sitting on the chair on the other side of the room. The nurse and Merlin grabbed at him, yelled at him to stay still. “Look in my jacket pocket, Merlin, I think they must be in there.”

 

Merlin reached for the jacket, held it up, eyebrows raised. “Inside pocket, yeah?” said Arthur. “Little red box.” Merlin reached inside. Frowned. Drew out the box. “The gold one’s for you and the silver one’s for me,” said Arthur. “Please say yes, yeah?”

Merlin opened the box. His expression became something unreadable, something Arthur had never seen before.

 

“Oh,” he said eventually, just as the nurse pulled the last stitch tight.

 

“There,” she said. “All done now.” She turned to face Merlin, expectant.

 

“I mean you don’t have to say yes right away,” said Arthur. “If you need time to think. You can say yes tomorrow if you’d rather.” Then, because he’d run out of other things to say: “I love you so much, you know.”

 

“Yeah,” said Merlin, clearly astounded. “Yeah, I guess.” He closed his eyes, shook his head once, and Arthur’s heart practically stopped. “I mean. Yes. Yes, of course.” He closed the box, turned and stumbled back over to the table. “I love you too.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” said Arthur, grinning.

 

Behind them, the nurse clapped her hands to her mouth and made a delighted sound.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to [_The Wrong Trouser Leg of Time_](http://community.livejournal.com/merlinfic/714179.html). Arthur and Merlin's relationship develops in both universes.

**_B_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

Arthur slammed the door of their flat and thanked whatever Gods were listening that Merlin was in rather than trapped in the depths of the university library.

 

“Merlin,” he said, seizing him as he wandered out of the living room. “Okay. I spoke to my father, he’s fine with us, but he wants to meet you.”

 

“Oh,” said Merlin. “That’s good, isn’t it?

 

“Yeah, it’s great,” said Arthur. “Except he’s coming over here seven o’clock _today_.”

 

“Oh,” said Merlin. Then, “Shit.”

 

“Pretty much, yeah,” said Arthur, snappish. “And we need to talk about clothes.”

 

Merlin looked down at himself. “Something wrong with what I’m wearing?”

 

“Yeah, no,” said Arthur. “You have a shirt, right?” Merlin looked blank. “As in, a proper shirt. With buttons and a collar.”

 

“Um?” said Merlin. “I think I had one of those for school once.” Arthur glared.

 

“What? I’m a student!”

 

“Alright,” said Arthur. “What about trousers that aren’t jeans, can you manage that?”

 

Merlin bit his lip, thought hard. “I have a kilt,” he offered eventually.

 

Arthur groaned. “You don’t have any decent trousers, but you have a bloody _kilt?_ ”

 

“My uncle’s Scottish,” said Merlin sheepishly. “I like it.”

 

“Okay,” said Arthur. Took a deep breath. “Here’s what we do. You tell me your size, I go out and buy you some better clothes, and while I’m gone, you start thinking about dinner.”

 

“What, I’m cooking?” said Merlin. Arthur nodded. “Well, that’s not fair. You can’t just spring something like that on me. Why don’t _you_ cook?”

 

“Because I _can’t_ cook,” Arthur hissed.

 

“You could make him pasta with baked beans,” said Merlin, beaming.

 

Arthur gripped him by the shoulders and shook him gently. “I hate you so much sometimes,” he said. “Please, Merlin. This has to go well. It’s so important that this goes well.”

 

“Alright,” said Merlin. “Fine. But the olive oil’s almost finished so you’ll have to buy some of that too. And you’ll probably want to go to the butchers. What does your father like?”

 

“Um,” said Arthur. “Don’t do anything foreign. Keep it simple. He doesn’t eat chocolate, I don’t know why. He’s allergic to shellfish.”

 

Merlin nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. “You go out, I’ll text you when I’ve had a look through my recipe books, yeah?”

 

Arthur wrapped him up in his arms, gave him a quick squeeze. “I love you. You know I love you, right?”

 

“You, um, hadn’t mentioned that yet,” said Merlin. “Actually.” Arthur released him.

He stepped back. “But yeah. Yeah, I get that.” He smiled.

 

 

**_KA_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

Arthur woke up all alone in bed, and lay still, trying to will himself back to sleep, so he wouldn’t have to face another day of this, this – whatever _this_ was. Waking up alone never seemed to get any easier (and that was stupid, really, because he’d spent more of his life without Merlin than with). It hadn’t been so bad at first. He’d been so sure that he could find the other Merlin if he just looked hard enough, but – it had been three days since he’d given up.

 

He forced his eyes open. Blinked. Then sat up, dumbfounded.

 

The sheets were red and rumpled. Merlin’s pyjamas were in a heap on the floor. The bed was still warm next to him, recently vacated. And someone, someone was in the kitchen, pattering around and humming.

 

He sat still for a few seconds, rigid, gripping the quilt, hardly daring to move in case he was dreaming, in case he woke himself up, then, once he was almost sure, he rumbled out of bed and raced for the door.

 

He slowed to a stop once he was outside. He wasn’t sure he dared look in the kitchen, just in case, in case… he wasn’t even sure what he was afraid of. He gripped the doorframe tightly, took a deep breath, and made himself look.

 

Merlin was there, in jeans and his ancient _I ♥London_ t-shirt, wandering back and forth. He was making pancakes. The scent of them filled the kitchen, and Arthur breathed _in, in._

 

“Oh, hey,” said Merlin. “You’re up. Did you –”

 

But before he could finished, Arthur launched himself forward, threw himself at Merlin, wrapped his arms around him and held on as tightly as he could. He never wanted to let go again.

 

“Oh God,” he gasped out. “Oh God. It’s me. I’m home, Merlin. I’m home. I’m home.” He mouthed it over and over into Merlin’s neck. Merlin was strangely still, but he didn’t care. He was _home_.

 

After a moment, Merlin shifted, then pushed him back a little, fingers brushing his face, feeling along his hairline until they found the long, upraised length of a scar. Then he relaxed, all the tension seeping out of his body, and sank into Arthur.

 

“It’s you,” he said. He was starting to tremble. “It’s really you.”

 

“It was awful, Merlin,” said Arthur, breathing in the scent of his hair. Shampoo and pancake batter. “It was like a vision of what my life would’ve been like if I’d never met you. Never leave me. Promise you’ll never leave me?”

 

Merlin sighed and pulled himself back, looking Arthur in the eye. “Of course,” he said. “Why would I?” Then, “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

 

For half a minute or so, they just looked at each other, standing in the sunlight that streamed through the kitchen windows, pancakes hissing away behind them.

 

Then Arthur said, “Was he here? The other me? He was, wasn’t he?”

 

Merlin hesitated, then nodded, biting his lip.

 

“Okay,” said Arthur. “That’s okay. I mean. You two –”

 

“He wasn’t you,” said Merlin quickly. Too quickly. “I know he wasn’t you. I just had to look after him, yeah?” He swallowed. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

 

Arthur frowned, sudden horrible thoughts crowding his head. He pulled away from Merlin, took a deep breath. “You didn’t, though,” he said. “I mean, of course you didn’t.” Merlin stared blankly at him. “I mean, it’s not like you slept with him or anything?” He laughed nervously.

 

Merlin was silent. Then he backed away, up against the sink, and pressed his hands over his mouth. “Oh, God,” he said. “He was you! I mean, he was practically you! That doesn’t count, does it? I mean, it didn’t. It _wasn’t_.” He dragged his hands up through his hair.

 

Arthur choked back a yell, planted his feet firmly on the tiled floor. “So, when you said you missed me, what you meant was you’d been with him instead while I was stuck all on my own?”

 

“No!” said Merlin. “It wasn’t, I swear it wasn’t like that. I mean, we didn’t. Well, we did, but only twice, yeah?”

 

“Twice,” said Arthur flatly.

 

“Once the first morning, when I didn’t realise it wasn’t you, and he just went along with it, I don’t know why,” said Merlin. “And. Once last night. When I thought you weren’t ever coming back.” Arthur stared. “Please don’t be angry,” said Merlin. “Please, _please_.” He reached out for Arthur, wrapped his arms around his neck and clung on, tears prickling against Arthur’s skin. “He was almost you, yeah?” he said.

“And I missed you, and I wanted him to be you, and I think he wanted to be you too. And I missed you.” He trembled. He was sobbing, Arthur realised. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I told myself I wouldn’t, when I realised what had happened, I told myself I’d wait till you came back, but then I thought you were gone forever and I just couldn’t stand it any more. Please don’t be angry.”

 

Arthur hesitated for a moment, then pulled Merlin back, looked him in the eye, wiped away tears with his thumb. He couldn't lose Merlin again. “Hey,” he said. “Hey. I understand, yeah? And it would be stupid to be jealous of myself, right?”

 

Merlin smiled. “Right,” he said. He sniffed. “The pancakes’ll be ready soon. You want pancakes?”

 

He was home all right.

 

 

**_B_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

Merlin still looked scruffy, even in a proper shirt and some brand new dark trousers. He was dashing around the kitchen, simultaneously poking at his vegetables and checking on the chicken and stirring the soup and putting together the cheesecake, shirt tails trailing out from under his apron (he didn’t usually wear one, but once he’d put the clothes on it seemed a bit stupid to take them off, so he’d dug out a gag apron he’d been given as a Secret Santa present once).

 

“You could at least tuck it in,” said Arthur.

 

“I will, I will,” said Merlin. “Do you want me to fix my hair as well?”

 

“No, I think that’s probably as good as it gets,” said Arthur. He checked his watch. “Ten to seven. You about done?”

 

“The table’s all set, yeah?” said Merlin, tasting the soup and seasoning it again. “And the wine’s in the fridge. I’ll be done for seven.” He grinned. Arthur smiled back, willing himself to relax.

 

Then the door buzzer sounded, and he almost jumped out of his skin, tensing up all over. “Oh, God,” he said. “Fuck, he’s early. Why did he have to be early?”

 

“Go answer the door, then,” said Merlin, pulling on his oven gloves. “It’s no big deal.”

 

Arthur stood in the doorway, fidgeting, definitely _not_ biting his nails, and Merlin sighed, closed the oven, and took his head in big, padded hands that smelled of burnt cake.

 

“It’ll be alright, yeah?” he said. He kissed Arthur gently. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

“I don’t like to think,” said Arthur. “Look, just tuck your shirt in and take off that stupid apron.”

 

“Done and done,” said Merlin, reaching behind himself. “Hurry up, he’ll be getting impatient.”

 

The door buzzer went off for the second time. Arthur swore and launched himself at the button.

 

His father was as steely-grey and stern as ever as he walked into the flat. He hadn’t visited Arthur at home in years, and he stared around himself, silently judging. Then his gaze fell on Merlin, standing just inside the kitchen, adjusting his shirt.

 

“And this is Merlin, then?” he said.

 

Merlin swallowed. “Good evening,” he said. He held out a hand. Uther shook it stiffly. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

 

“Of course,” said Uther.

 

A pause. Arthur was about to say something when Merlin chipped in with, “So you’re early.”

 

“Yes,” said Uther. “It always pays to be prompt.”

 

“I just meant that dinner won’t be ready for a few more minutes,” said Merlin, doing his best to smile. “D’you want to sit down while you wait?”

 

Arthur had tidied up in the living room, thank God. The moment Uther was gone, Merlin grabbed him by the arm and gave him an appalled look.

 

“I thought you weren’t worried?” Arthur hissed.

 

“You didn’t tell me he was so terrifying!” Merlin hissed back.

 

“Yes I did!” said Arthur.

 

“Well, alright, you did,” said Merlin. “But you weren’t descriptive enough! He’s all…” He waved his hands vaguely in a way that was presumably meant to convey: _cold, pretentious, really fucking scary_. “Arthur, I don’t know if this is going to work. What if I say something stupid? What if he doesn’t like my cooking? What if –”

 

“Merlin, he will _love_ your cooking,” said Arthur, taking hold of him. “Because _everyone_ loves your cooking, yeah?” Merlin nodded, breathless. Arthur kissed him on the forehead, gave him a nudge back towards the kitchen, and dashed away to entertain his father.

 

His father, who was standing by the bookcase in the corner – brand new, they’d bought it in Ikea when they’d realised that the shelving Arthur had wasn’t enough for Merlin – looking at a row of battered books. “Whose are all these?” he said. “They’re not yours, are they?”

 

“Oh,” said Arthur. “No, those are Merlin’s.”

 

His father pulled out one of the books and flipped it open. “Chrétien de Troyes?” he said.

 

“It’s for his thesis,” said Arthur. “Arthurian literature. That’s his favourite, he says.” He nodded at the book.

 

Uther frowned, then broke into one of his rare smiles. “He shall have to tell me about that,” he said. He put back the Chrétien de Troyes and pulled out a copy of _Le Mort D’Arthur_. 

 

Arthur breathed an inward sigh of relief.

 

*

 

Later, while Merlin was in the kitchen, stacking up the dishes by the sink, Arthur’s father took him aside in the hallway. 

 

“I must say, I’m pleasantly surprised, Arthur. You’ve done very well for yourself.” He looked like he was going to go on, but Merlin wandered over then, holding a wineglass in one hand and a dishcloth in the other.

 

Uther cleared his throat. “This means you’ll have to adopt, of course,” he said.

Merlin’s jaw dropped. 

 

“I’m sorry?” said Arthur.

 

“I still expect grandchildren,” said his father. “Morgana’s gone child-free, so I’m relying on you, I’m afraid.” He adjusted his tie.

 

“Um,” said Merlin. “We hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Sir.”

 

“Please,” said Arthur’s father. “Call me Uther.” He took Merlin’s hand – there was some brief juggling with the wineglass – and shook it warmly. “I hope to see you again soon. Good luck with your thesis. It sounds fascinating.”

 

And then he was gone, as suddenly as he’d arrived. Merlin wiped at his wineglass thoughtfully.

 

“Grandchildren?” he said, staring into space.

 

“Apparently,” said Arthur.

 

Merlin frowned. “I don’t know if I’d be a good parent.”

 

Arthur walked over, draped an arm around him. “You’d do great. Trust me.”

 

“I didn’t really think about that, though,” said Merlin. “I mean you said we were married, in that – in the other universe, so I guess I assumed, but I didn’t really… y’know.” He swallowed. “I think that went well, though.”

 

“He likes you,” said Arthur. “And he approves. Which means he’s not going to start sending me pointed emails telling me how his business associates have single daughters like he did last time I was seeing someone.” Merlin frowned. “Something wrong?”

 

“There’s still half a cheesecake left,” said Merlin. “How do you feel about cheesecake for breakfast?”

 

“That sounds revolting,” said Arthur, wrinkling his nose.

 

“Yeah,” said Merlin brightly.

 

**_KA_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

They ate their pancakes curled up on the sofa, with maple syrup and raspberries and cream, sticky and sweet and delicious. Arthur ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair, stroked his fringe back.

 

“What was he like?” he said. “The other me.”

 

“Like you were when we first met,” said Merlin. “Except a little less obnoxious.” 

 

“Oh, thanks,” said Arthur.

 

“Well, he didn’t shout at me or tell me I was disgusting,” said Merlin. “Is what I meant. When he found me in his bed.” 

 

“I didn’t mean that,” said Arthur. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

 

“It was a long time ago, and I’m over it,” said Merlin, feeding him a raspberry. “He was – I don’t know.” He frowned a sad little frown.

 

“What?” said Arthur, nudging him.

 

“He didn’t want to leave,” said Merlin. “I mean, he was you, kind of, so I guess he fell for me as well. He didn’t want to go back to – well, you know. You were there.”

 

Arthur winced. “I didn’t think I could ever get that lonely. You should see the amount of porn he had in his flat.” 

 

“Well, there must be a me, right?” said Merlin. “In his universe. There was a you and a Morgana and a Lance and a Gwen, so there must be a me somewhere.”

 

Arthur pressed a kiss to the top of his head, comforting. “I looked for you,” he said. “I tried so hard to find you. I kept trying to think what I should say, because I couldn’t exactly tell you that I was your husband from another universe, but then it didn’t matter, because I couldn’t find you. You weren’t anywhere. I don’t know, maybe it’s just the universe with no Merlin.”

 

“There’ll be someone for him,” Merlin insisted. “There has to be. Right?”

 

“Well, I’d almost given up when I found you,” said Arthur. “He’ll be okay.” He hugged Merlin a little closer.

 

“Let’s stay in,” said Merlin after a moment. “All day. Let’s not go anywhere. Just you and me, yeah? We can order in dinner. It’ll be nice. Besides, we have lost time to make up for.” He set his plate down on the coffee table and twisted round to face Arthur, smiling. 

 

“I love you,” said Arthur, staring at him, wondering, tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones with his eyes.

 

“Yeah,” said Merlin. “I know.” 

 

**_B_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

After the ceremony, after they’d cut the cake and said their vows and greeted relative after relative, they ducked out of the reception hall, out onto the balcony, away from the music and the drunk uncles and Merlin’s army of screaming little cousins.

Arthur took Merlin’s hand, twisted their fingers together, rings meeting with a soft little _clink_.

 

“So,” he said.

 

“So,” said Merlin. “That went better than I expected.”

 

“What did you expect?” said Arthur.

 

“I was convinced I was going to trip over or fuck up my vows or something,” said Merlin. “There may have been hyperventilating. You’ll have to ask Gwen and Will, I’m not sure.”

 

Arthur laughed. “You’re adorable.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’re my husband,” said Merlin. 

 

“I guess I am,” said Arthur. “Wow.” He smiled, suddenly elated, and kissed Merlin, soft, then passionate. Merlin moaned, pulled back, reached into his pocket.

 

“What’ve you got there?” said Arthur.

 

Merlin drew out two little figures in suits. “It’s little marzipan Arthur and Merlin,” he said. “I took them after we cut the cake. You want to eat me?” 

 

“Oh, hell yeah!” said Arthur, taking little marzipan Merlin.

 

Merlin raised marzipan Arthur, as if toasting him. “Well.”

 

“Well,” said Arthur. He grinned. “To the other Arthur and Merlin. I hope they’re both as happy as I am.”

 

Merlin laughed, took hold of Arthur’s lapels, toyed with them. “Yeah. I hope so too.” He bit into marzipan Arthur and smiled. “Mmm. You’re delicious.”

 

Before Arthur could answer, there was a little cough from the doorway. Merlin turned, smiled down at one of his cousins.

 

“Hi, Lucy,” he said. She beckoned him over. He crouched down beside her, let her whisper in his ear. “Oh. Okay.” He turned to face Arthur. “She wants to dance with you.” 

 

“I don’t know,” said Arthur, addressing her sternly. “I don’t want to upset my new husband. He’s very jealous.” Lucy blushed and turned her face away.

 

“I think I can deal,” said Merlin, smiling, fitting their hands together. “Go on. Have fun.” 

 

Arthur turned and waved as he was dragged back out onto the dance floor, waved at Merlin, standing framed in the glass doorway, the night sky behind him and the rest of their lives ahead of him. And that.

 

 

**_(does it really matter anyway)_ **

**__**

 

**__**

 

Merlin was just finishing up a lecture, scrawling notes across the blackboard, messy. 

“So as you can see, Chrétien de Troyes really was a remarkable poet,” he said, dusting the chalk off his hands. “Even aside from his influence on later Arthurian literature, his use of structure was particularly innovative. So that’s why he’s been called the inventor of the modern novel.” He stood back, adjusted his glasses. “Any questions?”

 

The students filed out, happy and laughing, until there was only a single solitary figure left at the back. Merlin had been packing away his notes into his bag, didn’t notice for a few minutes, not until their footsteps echoed around the empty lecture theatre. He slipped his glasses off and squinted up.

 

“Interesting lecture, Dr. Emrys,” said Arthur as he ambled down the steps.

 

“Dr. Emrys- _Pendragon_ ,” said Merlin, a slow smile spreading across his face. Arthur stopped a few paces away and grinned at him. “I thought you were in Berlin till the weekend?”

 

“Yeah, turns out, that… wasn’t,” said Arthur. “I may have lied a bit. Happy anniversary, Merlin.” He tossed Merlin a little box, a carefully wrapped present. 

 

Merlin looked at it for a moment, then set it down on the desk and flung his arms around Arthur’s neck.

 

“Love you,” he said, nose to nose with him.

 

“I know you do,” said Arthur. “Morgana’s picking the kids up from school and taking them to McDonald's. They’re spending the night at hers. We have the house to ourselves all evening.”

 

Merlin pulled a face. “McDonald's? Really?” He shook his head. “Never mind. That’s great. Really great.”

 

Arthur grinned, ran his fingers through Merlin’s hair – the first few strands of grey were starting to peek out – and said, “Thank you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And I love you, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” said Merlin, kissing him, soft and kind of amazing.

 

. _fin._


End file.
